The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (46 page)

If Castle Almen didn’t have so many secrets,
we’d be dead already.

Of
that much, Melegal was certain. And as for Sefron, his pasty nemesis, the cleric had been storing up for something. This room barely held the three of them, but it was filled with provisions, and it was only one room within a sprawling network.
I could spend a year exploring this castle, maybe more. I wonder how many secrets are in this world.
He looked at Creed and crunched into some fruit.

The man had finally
pulled his cowl down off his head so it rested on his shoulders, and Melegal could make out his face.
Good.
For the time being, Creed was himself again. An overachieving thug in the ranks of Royals.

At least he doesn’t have his
loud and smelly dogs with him.

“Melegal,” Lorda said, chin down, rubbing her arms. “Do you think all my family are dead?” She sobbed. “I saw them gut my niece and butcher one of my uncles before my eyes. The
y’re monsters, aren’t they?”

Just a little more so than your husband.

“There’s no time to mourn, Lorda. Just escape.”

“But?”

He put one hand on her shoulder, lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Be strong.”

A tear fell
down her cheek. Lorda had family, and they meant something. He was certain they were wiped out. Most all of them anyway. If he understood anything about underlings, he knew they didn’t need people for anything, other than amusement. They were like cats that played with mice.

He fondled a small ring he’d found in one of Sefron’s chests earlier. It was a flat metal with odd symbols
, dust coated, and set with a variety of smooth gemstones. There were other baubles, but he had no pockets to stick them in.

“You’re gorgeous
,” Creed said, staring hard at Lorda.

“What?”

Creed game closer, adjusting the bracers he’d pulled out of the sack and put on his arms earlier.

“You’
re more gorgeous,” he repeated, “than the morning light in the gardens. Captivating.”

Lorda pulled
tighter around her form a gown Melegal had scrounged up for her.

“
Mind yourself, Bloodhound,” she warned. “I’m not some tavern trollop who’ll swoon at your clever phrase of words. The finest troubadours in the land haven’t swayed me, so how could a smelly hound like you?”

“Pardon, Lorda.” He bow
ed with a grin. “It’s a sincere compliment. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’d cut my own arm off just for a—”

“Don’t you dare
, Heathen!”

“Sh
hhh! The both of you,” Melegal said. “There’s a hundred underlings out there looking for us.”

“A taste of those sweet lips,” Creed said, “was all I was going to say. Wh
at did you think I was going to say, anyway? I’m a Royal too, you know.”

Lorda scooted f
arther away.

The last thing Melegal needed was a conflict with Creed. The man wasn’t a brute, but he was all fighter.
They needed him. They might have to carve their way out to escape.

Creed resumed his seat and tore back into his jerky. “What’s the plan, Melegal?”

Melegal envisioned the last thing he’d seen from his spire before he came in here. Underlings were everywhere. The only safe way out was the same way he’d come in. With a Key.

Sla
t! And to think: I had seven of them, along with my freedom, and I came right back into this infernal Castle. What a vengeful fool I am!

“We need a
Key, Creed. I think one Key is all it will take to get us free and clear. It’s either that, or we’re going to have to lay low in here, and it won’t be long before the food runs out or they find us.”

Eyeing Creed, Lorda said, “I’m ready to get out of here. I don’t think this man can be trusted with me in these close quarters.”

Creed perched his eyebrows. “My intentions are nothing but honorable. You’ll need protection, Lorda. You can’t expect me to believe you’d prefer the company of underlings to me?” He shrugged and looked at Melegal. “Then again, maybe you prefer the small gruesome kind. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Creed slipped The Cowl back over his head. “Let’s be about our business.” He held a finger up. “Wait, something comes.”

Melegal stepped in front of Lorda, pushing her behind him. He
hadn’t heard a thing when a dark shadow slipped into the room.

Creed
drew his sword.

“Wait,” Melegal said.

“What is that?” Lorda said.

“It’s my cat. Octopus.”

Lorda let out a sigh.

Creed flipped him his coin
. “That’s the ugliest cat I ever saw. And those eyes. What is it, blind as a bat?”

“Blind as a bat and meaner than ten of your dogs.”

“Huh.”

Octopus rumbled, the hairs raising on his back.

Creed froze. “They’re close.”

“How close?”

Dust and debris fell from the ceiling above.

Wham!

Something pounded the floor above.

“Is that close enough for you?”

Bone! They’re onto us.

CHAPTER 66

Slim dangled the pink flesh of Venir’s missing ear in his face. “Hold still. This is going to sting. I can put it back on, but, I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the other one.”

“That’s alright,” Venir said
. “I never listened much anyway. I don’t think putting my ear on is going to do me much good eith—
urk!
”

Grabbing both sides of his head with extra-long fingers, Slim
’s hands glowed.

“Argh!”

Venir’s bones crackled. His skin felt like it was on fire. It wasn’t pain, not like all the other torments he’d faced the past few days, but it was uncomfortable. Disturbing. Unnatural.

“Bone! What are you doing, Slim
?”

A
storm raged between his temples. His bones moved. His skin crawled. His arms and legs thickened.

Slim
’s long, youthful face changed. His hair thinned. His eyes sunk back in their sockets.

Venir blinked hard.

Slim’s red lips turned gray, and the skin on his body became mummified and dry.

“No, Slim
! No!”

He tried to push his friend away, but
Slim’s lanky arms didn’t budge.

Finally,
Slim let out a ragged sigh, released him, stepped back, and fell to the ground. His long frame little more than a husk of skin and bone.

“Slim! Slim!” Venir said.

The cleric’s teeth were cracked when he smiled.

“Don’t worry about me, Vee. I’ll be fine. Go get you some underlings.”

One of Chongo’s big heads licked the man.

Then
Slim’s eyes rolled up in his head.

Venir’s head dipped to his chest
, and his hand was white-knuckled on his knife. He was whole. So far as he could tell, he was as whole as he’d ever been. He’d been living in such pain.

Gra
bbing Chongo by the mane on his neck, he swung himself into the saddle. “Let’s find me an axe and shatter some bones!”

Chongo surged forward.

Outpost Thirty One was in total disarray. A hundred underlings or more dragged one giant to the ground. A dozen underlings at a time were being stomped, leaving black smears in the dust. A wagon cart was tossed into one of the towers, and a giant bigger than all the rest beat his chest and roared, slamming his weapon across the ground, sweeping underlings away like bugs.

“Now that’s an axe!” Venir yelled.

Chongo barreled through the sea of underlings, biting some and trampling others. Venir’s eyes locked on the battle axe of a fallen brigand who’d been smashed into a bloody mud hole. Riding by, he snatched it off the ground. A second later, he gored an underling’s head.

“It’s sharp! It’s metal!
It ain’t Brool. Yah! But it’ll do!”

He brought the
heavy axe down, busting armor and splitting through a clavicle. He was free. Unfettered by his helm, he had clarity. Sweeping the battle axe from one side to the other. In seconds, gore coated his arms and chest.

T
he distracted underlings didn’t see him and Chongo coming.

Crush!

Crumble!

Chomp!

“Over there, Chongo!”

Venir had spied an ailing Black Beard surrounded by a thicket of underlings
. Chongo pounced on them. Venir dove into the ones he missed. Swinging left and right with all his might, opening chests and crushing in skulls.
Who needs the armament!

Two strokes later
, his corded arms turned to lead. His lungs caught fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another pack of underlings closing in on him.

“Seems fear of the giants has rerouted their attack
,” he said, raising his axe over his head. “Come on, get them!”

***

Eethum led. Fogle followed. The Blood Ranger’s axes sang to the underlings. A tune of death and destruction.  Fogle tasted their oily blood in his mouth and spit it out. Above, the towering giants had failed to take over. Scores of underlings kept coming. Overwhelming the giants with sheer numbers. They crawled all over.

Fogle was torn.
Whose side should I be fighting for?
Even if they defeated the underlings, wouldn’t the giants turn on him and the dwarves?

Thump!

Thump!

The entire fort shook. One of the giants, eyes close together, was slamming himself into one of the corner towers. Underlings spilled out, screech
ing on their way to the ground.

“Help the dwarves, Fogle!” Eethum said. “Keep your eyes out for Venir!”

Find Venir! And get out of here!

Wading through underlings and dodging oversized feet and weapons, Eethum led them up the stair onto the catwalks.

“See anything?” Fogle said.

“No!” Eethum said
. The Blood Ranger was holding them off.

“There!” Fogle pointed.

Two Black Beards were fighting for their lives in the corner. Fogle unleashed his power. A bolt of lightning leapt from his fingers.

Sssram!

The chain of lightning ripped through one underling, then another.
Piles of ash were scattered in the air.

A giant, bald and cock-eyed
, leered down at him, raised his axe and swung. Eethum shoved Fogle out of the way. The catwalk shattered. They tumbled hard to the ground.

Breathless, Fogle
got back to his feet just as the giant reached down for him.

Wham!

The ugly giant roared.

Somebody swung a club the size of a tree into its knee. It was Barton.

“Leave my Wizard friend alone, Haddad!”

Whack!

Haddad struck Barton across the face, knocking him from his feet, and turned back to Fogle.

“I’LL EAT YOU
, WIZARD!” He patted his belly. “YOUR MAGIC MAKE HADDAD STRONG!”

Eethum burst into action, chopping into the bone below the giant’s knee.

“ARGH! BLOOD RANGER! YOU SHALL PAY!”  The giant was quick. It snatched Eethum off the ground and squeezed him.

Fogle drew his arms back, summoned his words
, and started to cast.

Clonk!

A sling stone ricocheted off his head. Blood trickled in his eyes. The next thing he saw was Eethum flying through the air and the giant reaching for him.

I don’t want to fly like that
.

***

Fighting to lift his arms to swing, Venir’s knees buckled when an underling’s shield clipped the back of his chin. Trying to shake it off, he was too late. The underlings piled on top of him, clawing and tearing at his throat.

“H
eeyah!” a familiar voice rang out, scattering the underlings like bloody moths.

Mood’s arms pumped those axes into one underling after another, rekindling Venir’s fire.

Venir caught his breath and burst into motion.

“Ain’t so sa
vvy without that helmet on, are ye?”

Venir, arms high, sunk his axe down into an underling
’s chest, shooting black and red blood up everywhere.

“No!”

Two more black beards joined in, the five of them forming a circle, keeping the underlings at bay.

“Where in Bish are all th
ese roaches pouring out from, anyway!” Mood shouted, deflecting a chop at his neck on the blade of his axe.